


Soul Storm

by Pfain Ryder (Cat_Moon)



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 07:53:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19372441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Pfain%20Ryder
Summary: Sam, Al, the weekend at a beach house.  What's troubling Al?





	Soul Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 1993. Original timeline, so no pesky wives. Wham Bam #4. 1995.

I stood at the surfs edge, staring out over the ocean. It was a beautiful day, but with a brisk wind and heavy clouds that foretold of a coming storm. Gulls cried overhead, following a small fishing boat enthusiastically. The rush of the waves was a peaceful sound, soothing my nerves some, but not as much as I could have used.

I was going to seduce Sam tonight.

It wasn't a decision I'd come to lightly, or easily; if you could even call it a decision. More like an insidious thought, wafting through my mind for months, like driftwood on the water, until it became a nagging idea, then an ache.

If I had to pin down a beginning for the madness, I'd say it all started with Ruth's death. My bouncing back that time wasn't as springy, and my brief marriage to Sharon more of another effort to prove myself a failure than anything else.

Sam had been standing with me outside the lawyers office, the day of the divorce. He'd shaken his head ruefully, a small, wry smile playing on his lips. He clapped me on the shoulder and said, "Maybe you oughta give up women, buddy," and walked over to the water fountain.

In retrospect, maybe, it wasn't much as a catalyst. Wouldn't have been, if I hadn't known certain other key facts.

Rumors, facts, what was the difference?

I'd heard the talking long before I ever met him, and my own observations did nothing to dispel them. Sam was shy, almost hesitant about women. Men--especially older men like Professor Lonnegro--were an entirely different story. The two had been inseparable while he attended MIT... much the same as he and I were, now. By the time I'd picked myself up enough, after 'Nam, to go back to school, Sam was already on a project and working on his fifth doctorate in his spare time. However, some of the students he'd had classes with were still there, and Professor Lonnegro was also one of my teachers. I'd been told that Sam and Lonnegro had been having an affair. Sam was bisexual, with more than a strong preference towards men.

Admittedly, it threw me in the beginning, especially when Sam seemed to instantly attach himself, becoming my bosom buddy almost from the moment we met. I asked him once, why he'd bailed a complete stranger out of a nasty mess. He just smiled in embarrassment and said he'd seen the good underneath. My suspicious mind didn't quite buy that. The kid was by no means psychic, and I'd been one very mean drunk. I never let prejudice interfere with giving someone a chance on their own merit, though. Sam turned out to be one of the best human beings I'd ever known, loyal to a fault, courageous, and dedicated. And the best friend I've ever had.

So I waited for the expected pass, armed with a strong-yet- compassionate speech about being honored, _but_..., and poured on the tall tales about female conquests, just so Sam wouldn't entertain any ideas that might jeopardize our friendship. I guess I'd done a real good job of it, because the approach never came.

Ruthie always told me I had an ornery and contrary spirit, and she must have been right; I'd gotten what I wanted, and now I didn't want it anymore.

I wanted Sam Beckett, and yes, in the biblical sense.

Was it just because I was lonely, fed up with women in general? Was it wise to start something like this with a cherished friend? I'd tortured myself with questions like those for the three days since we'd arrived at the beach house. It belonged to Professor Lonnegro, of all people. A house with a private beach, a cabin in the middle of the woods...the man sure liked his privacy. Not that I could blame him, if he was doing what I thought he was doing there. Good thing Sam mentioned he'd never been to the beach house before, my imagination was already in overdrive. I know he'd spent a lot of time at the cabin.

Lonnegro had invited--actually, almost ordered--us to use the house, during a birthday party for him that we attended. Sam was pretty burned out from working twenty-hour days at the Project, and showed it. He really did need the rest, I had to be grateful to the Professor. Sam was too polite to turn down his gracious hospitality, and here we were.

The interesting thing was, Lonnegro automatically included me in the invitation, just assuming I'd be going with Sam. It was pretty obvious from the way he acted that he thought I was his replacement, Sam's current 'companion'.

Sam also automatically assumed I'd be going with him. And while that may have been interesting, it wasn't at all unusual.

I almost expected--hoped--that Sam would take the opportunity to try something, but so far he'd been a perfect gentleman. Not even a clue as to what he was thinking. If he harbored lascivious thoughts about me, he didn't show it. My exaggerated machismo all those years had backfired on me. He must have been scared to death to risk telling me he was bisexual.

So it was all up to me.

I wasn't entirely sure I was 'in love' with Sam, but if I didn't take a chance to find out, I was afraid I'd never get another. And the thought of being closer, yes, even loving someone more than him, was laughable. Sam was like the sun in my life.

"Whatcha doing out here?"

I jumped at the unexpected soft voice, turned to see Sam standing a safe distance from the lapping surf. "Oh, nothing much. I just came out here to think."

"Looks like it's going to storm, it's pretty damp."

"Yeah," I answered, distracted by my thoughts. Sam was wearing a blue and gold sweater that really set off his eyes, and white pants that clung in interesting places... Whenever he was around, and I could get away with it without being noticed, I'd watch Sam. Try to imagine what it would be like to kiss him, to hold the solid body in my arms...

"Why don't you come inside and have some cocoa? You can't be very warm in those thin clothes. You want to catch cold?"

"Yes, mommy," I answered, going up to meet him.

Sam slung his arm around my shoulders as we headed for the house. From the teasing tone in his voice, I knew his concern was also part revenge, for all the nagging I did at the Project. Well, he called it nagging. I preferred to call it Mensa-maintenance. He'd literally forget to eat if I didn't remind him. I used to tease him about the book I was going to write: 'The Care and Feeding of the Great North American Genius'.

Maybe, after tonight, I'd be able to add a chapter on their sexual habits...

When we went inside, Sam disappeared to get the hot drinks. I sat down near the fireplace, glad he'd gotten a fire going while I was gone. I hadn't noticed how cold I was until I came inside the warm house. My fingers and toes were actually starting to tingle a little...or was that from anticipation?

 _Tonight_ , I promised myself, watching the fire.

 

QLQLQL

 

I cooked dinner that night, my specialty, spaghetti. I'd picked out a nice bottle of wine for the occasion, even put candles on the table. But my planned seduction fell pathetically short of the Calavicci touch. All I ended up doing was feeling silly. It was Sam who finally lit the candles I'd set out, with me mumbling something about having put them there in case of a storm-induced power failure.

If I couldn't even set up a romantic night with a man, how was I going to sleep with one?

Sam offered to do the dishes, so I let him at them and wandered into the living room. I sat down on the couch, staring into the fire much as I had the ocean earlier. The storm Sam predicted had been unleashed in full force. Rain poured down on the roof, waves pounded the shore. It was warm inside though, cozy and peaceful; a marked contrast to what was happening outside. Kind of like what was going on with me, only in reverse.

Finally I noticed Sam was standing in the doorway, watching me. I don't know how long he'd been there. He came over and sat down beside me, and I poured him a glass of wine. There didn't seem to be anything to say, but we've always been comfortable with silences. At least until this particular night.

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"Is something bothering you?"

"No," the lie came automatically. "Why?" That question, I shouldn't have added. It wasn't conducive to him dropping the subject.

"You can't fool me, you know. You haven't been your usual gabby self today. In fact, you've been quiet as a mouse ever since we got here."

I pretended the fire held my absolute fascination. "Just thinking, I guess."

"Introspection? From you? Only on serious occasions."

Well, there it was. The opening I'd been waiting for. The only problem was, I didn't know what to do with it. Kind of like the old joke about dogs chasing cars. If I didn't watch out, I was going to get run over by this one. I glanced at Sam and wished I hadn't. With the firelight playing on his face and the concern in his brown eyes...well, he was quite a sight.

I already had been hit by that car, but it was a Mack truck called Sam Beckett.

"You can talk to me, if you want to," he said quietly, putting his hand on my shoulder.

 _Play it by ear_ , I told myself chidingly. _Just like you do with women you're trying to score with. It's not so much different..._

I moved closer. "There is something..." I put my hand on his knee--just a friendly gesture, or more, depending on your point of view. "But I don't know exactly how to bring it up."

"Whatever you want to say, I'll listen. You know that."

I've never been good with words. Action was always my forte with the ladies, and none of them could resist my charm. On the other hand, none of them had ever cleaned up my vomit on a regular basis--except Ruthie, but she was special. A sense of mystery attracts the sexes to each other, usually. Dammed if I knew how to seduce a man. I guessed, from what I'd heard, gays were kinda direct with each other. 'Hey, let's screw' behind the bushes and that sort of thing. I was used to wooing the female species, it wasn't in me to be so crude.

I felt like a lunatic, a novice, a fool. I wanted to blame it on the wine, but I hadn't had that much. I let my hand move up further on Sam's leg, to the point where it would have been difficult to interpret my touch as friendly.

Silence followed for a minute that stretched on for nerve-wracking eons. I wasn't looking at him either, I can tell you that.

Finally, Sam spoke. "Al...what's going on?"

I peeked up at his face (what had I been looking at before?!). It wasn't easy to read, kind of confused. I was tired of the suspense, and my own ridiculous behavior. I reached further...

Sam flew off the couch like a rocket, landing a safe distance away on the other side of the room.

_No, this isn't working._

A sick feeling in my stomach was hinting that I'd goofed, big time. I knew I should say something, but I was tongue-tied.

"Why...I think you'd better talk to me, Al," Sam said in a shaky voice.

It all came out in a rush then, a tumble of embarrassed words in my haste to extricate myself. "I--I just thought maybe you might...I mean, I know about you and Lonnegro, and I wondered if--"

"What about me and Lonnegro?" Sam pounced on the name.

"I know that you were...lovers."

"Me and Lonnegro?" his voice rose almost to soprano, and the surprise on his face was too complete to be faked. "You thought--me and--"

_Wrong. Wrong._

"That'll teach me to listen to rumors," I gave a parody of a laugh and got up from the couch. I noticed Sam take just the barest of steps backward. "I think I'll go for a walk."

And I casually strolled outside.

I was several feet away from the house before it dawned on me that I was in the middle of a storm, noticed the wind and rain pelting me. I felt more humiliated and foolish than I had after my first attempted conquest--and subsequent rejection, when she'd taken one look at my exposed, ten-year-old dick and gone screaming away in terror. And to think, I'd touched his... I imagined I could still feel the soft bulge under my fingers. I looked down at my hand to see if it had been burned, but it was too dark to tell.

A crash of thunder lit up the sky, followed by a silvery streak of lightning, cutting across the water with an eerie malevolence. I watched the flashes for a moment, wondering if I should get ready to be struck down. That's what happened to sinners who committed abominations, I remembered from my childhood at the Catholic orphanage. What I'd been thinking...planning...

I was just to the point of connecting with reality again and wondering what I was doing out there, when I felt something warm and dry being thrown around me. Then a pair of strong hands grabbed my arms.

"Get inside, before you get yourself killed!" Sam shouted to be heard over the storm, almost dragging me back to the house.

Once safely within the four walls, he pushed me down on the couch, poured a glass of wine, went to get another blanket. Maybe he just wanted to keep himself busy so he wouldn't have to look at me.

"I don't know what I did that for," I tried.

"Al, I'm worried about you," Sam said, dropping a towel down over my head. He sat beside me and faced me squarely; this time, I had no choice but to look at him.

"Sorry," I mumbled, lame, but all I had to offer. "I made a mistake."

Sam seemed to just remember why I'd gone dashing outside in the first place, a slight blush crept up his cheekbones. "Where did you get that idea from, Al?"

 _Oh boy._ "Well, uh..." No easy way to say it. "From almost everyone at MIT."

"What?" Now he went a mild shade of white. It was getting worse and worse.

"Everyone knew it, Sam--or so we thought. It was all over the campus that you and Lonnegro..."

The shock showed on his face. He'd actually had no idea what people were saying about him, poor guy. He seemed to chew on what I'd said a moment, then regarded me curiously. "You mean all this time, you thought that I was--"

"Bisexual," I finished for him, the refill I'd poured myself restoring some of my equilibrium.

"Well, I'm not. I've never..."

"No big deal," I hastened to reassure and save face. "Forget about it."

That genius mind of Sam's had been carefully analyzing everything I'd told him. Now his expression changed again. "No big deal? So what you're telling me is, you can't go more than a few days without some sort of sex, and I was a cheap lay?"

I would've never thought my legs were long enough to reach up and fit my feet into my mouth, but I was wrong. "No. Uh, I mean..." _How am I going to get myself out of this one?_ I couldn't say yes, but to say no meant admitting something I had no business feeling for another man. Especially a heterosexual one. "Do you really think I'd think of you like that?" I finally asked in a low voice.

"I never thought you'd ever be putting your hand on my crotch, either," Sam informed me.

"I told you I made a mistake, can't you leave it at that?" I said, rather harshly.

"Al--something's wrong, talk to me about it."

I jumped up, agitated. "Something's wrong? Hell yeah, something's wrong. I'm going crazy, that's all. Just ignore me!"

Sam got up and came over to me, reaching out. He always was a touchy guy, damn him. "You're my friend, I want to help--"

"If you want to help, you can goddamn well not touch me!"

Sam's hand snapped back as if stung. Then, he shook his head and took firm hold of my arm, leading me back to the couch. He shoved me down and sat beside me again, closer than before.

I helped myself to another glass of wine, Sam watched the fire while I drank it. Finally, he looked at me. "I know you've been going through a tough time, since Ruth died," he began in a quiet voice. "After Beth and Inga, it took a long time before you risked marriage again. You've always had a tendency to rebound. I know how much you hurt over Ruth, and I knew when you married Sharon that it was going to be a mistake."

"Yeah, so you told me," I replied sullenly.

"Is that why you...decided to try...men?"

I had the sudden feeling he was about to steal my 'I'm honored, but...' speech. It was frustrating. Like Ruth said, me and my orneriness. Now that Sam was trying to excuse what I was feeling, I wanted to staunchly defend it.

I sighed, resigned to a long, uncomfortably intense talk. "Partly, I guess..."

"What about the other part?"

"I..." I looked at him, couldn't bear that, stared instead at the fire. Verbalizing my desires was going to be even tougher than I thought. "I don't know what the other part is. I have nothing further to say," and, as I gained momentum, "And I'm tired of feeling like I'm being interrogated." Turning my fear and embarrassment into anger again. Ruth hated that about me.

"I'm sorry I've given you that impression," Sam said evenly. "I'm trying to help you." For just a moment, he sounded like a shrink. He even looked like one, fingers laced in front of him, a look of attentive concentration on his face.

And then I realized, he was so busy helping me, he didn't have time to consider how he felt about the whole thing. I had a feeling that was the plan.

"Do you hate me, now that you know what I was thinking?" I asked.

 _Bingo_. Sam shifted uncomfortably at the turn of conversation to him. "I could never hate you, you're my best friend. I'm just trying...to understand why."

"Why I'm your best friend?" I couldn't help asking, though I hadn't misunderstood.

Sam scowled at me in annoyance. "Why you've suddenly starting having these...feelings for me."

"If you can figure it out, you're doing better than me. Did you ever stop to think maybe it's just a--a phase? Just something that happened because of all the stress? Maybe I need time to sort it all out, figure out what's going on. Maybe it'll pass."

"Maybe," he said uncertainly.

"Maybe I'm tired. Maybe I want to go to bed."

Sam traced a pattern on the glass tabletop with his finger. "I don't want to talk about this any more, either. Good night." He abruptly got up, heading towards his bedroom.

I actually believed that might be the end of it.

 

QLQLQL

 

The bed was cold. Lonnegro never bothered to have a proper heating system put in, the fireplace in the living room and the wood-stove in the kitchen were the only means of heat. Even though it was only late August, on a damp, rainy night like this one, it could get pretty chilly in Massachusetts.

The bed was lumpy, too, or so it seemed to me. I tossed and turned to get comfortable, but it wasn't working. I was about to give up and drag my bedding into the other room, when a quiet voice came out of the darkness.

"Al?"

"You freezing too?" I asked.

The dark blob in the doorway came closer, then I felt the bed give as Sam sat down on the edge. It was a casual gesture, common, but I was mildly surprised he'd still feel comfortable doing it after what happened earlier. "I couldn't sleep."

"I'll flip you. Heads sleeps on the couch, tails gets the kitchen table." It was supposed to be a joke, but he didn't laugh. I missed the sound suddenly, how easy it used to be for me to make him laugh.

"I want to know about the other reasons, Al. I...need to know."

The kid always was direct. I had no choice but to reciprocate. "You could never be just an easy lay," I assured, suppressing a semi-hysterical joke about him not being easy at all. "I care about you," I heard the emotion in my voice, couldn't prevent it. "As a matter of fact, I can honestly say I love you more than I ever loved Sharon."

"That isn't saying much," Sam quipped.

"Or...Ruthie."

 _Or_...

And the rest remained unsaid.

Whoever said silence was golden? I was glad it was too dark to see his face.

"I love you, too," Sam finally whispered, that emotion in his voice, too. His hand reached out toward my arm, his fingers brushing mine. They were cold, shaking slightly.

I grabbed his hand in mine to warm it. "Your hand's like ice."

"The rest of me isn't far behind."

"Get in under the covers," I said, opening them in invitation. As soon as he slipped in, I realized what I'd done. The innocent invitation had come from the old me. "Maybe..." I backpedaled, "you should go warm up by the fire."

"Are you afraid to be close to me now?" his soft voice asked.

"Maybe," I said, dismissively.

"Aren't I the one who's supposed to be afraid of you?"

"You never have to be afraid of me, Sam," I told him with heartfelt sincerity.

"I know," he said with a strange note in his voice, as if there was more meaning in the words than I comprehended. "Remember when Donna stood me up?"

How could I forget? If Sam hadn't needed me for moral support, I would have hunted her down like an animal and put the trophy on the mantel in my living room.

I was startled to hear that laugh of his, especially since I hadn't said anything. "Would you really have?" he asked with amusement.

I gaped at him; I hadn't realized I'd spoken aloud. "I, uh..." I also hadn't realized I was still holding his hand.

"You never answered my question, about the other reasons."

I let go of his hand.

"Please, Al. The truth."

Since when have I ever been able to refuse Sam when he uses the P-word? "I wasn't sure about...what I'm feeling. But I thought that maybe I might have wanted...to find out." Can you get more non-committal than that?

"I know what you mean."

I didn't like the sound of that. "What do you mean?"

Sam chuckled. "Will you listen to us? I've never been part of such roundabout rhetoric as we've been having tonight." Then his tone changed, grew very serious. "I've known for a long time now that...my feelings for you seem more, well, I don't know what they seem, but they're very strong," he ended vehemently.

It's amazing how a human being can find humor even amongst the most stressful situations. "Not bad," I commented on his declaration. "But for a non-committal, it can't beat 'I thought that maybe I might have wanted'."

"I want to find out, Al."

Call me stupid, I wasn't expecting that. "Sam--" I began, glancing away.

"Al, look at me."

"I can't," I chided. "It's too dark."

His hand turned my head back. "I'm tired of talking. You started this, I want us to finish it. I can't forget it now, and neither can you." The hand drew me closer, and I let it. Our lips covered each other, and we were kissing.

It was so sensuous, I was reeling from the feelings washing over me. As the kiss deepened, Sam moaned into my mouth, and that startled me into thinking again. I broke away in panic at what was happening.

Sam was frozen in place for a moment, as if it took him that long to realize I'd backed away. As if he was so into it, that...

"Sam, we can't."

"I thought you wanted--"

"I do. But it's...it's not right. I realized that tonight. We're not gay, Sam, we're normal. We can't let this...aberration ruin what we have together."

"Do you love me?" he asked, sliding his arms around my waist. My god, just that much and I was lost already.

"Yes," I breathed.

"Love can never be wrong, Al." His body was warm, and somehow hard and soft at the same time. Different from holding a woman, but so much like holding Sam I wanted to weep.

"This kind is," I insisted. That's one thing about being a Catholic. You can renounce your religion all you want, become a vehement atheist. But your religion doesn't renounce you.

Sam shook his head. "There are millions of people in this world who are doing horrible things to hurt others. Do you think God would really disapprove of us loving each other?" He kissed me again. When I felt his tongue, I let it in. This time it was me who moaned.

No, God could never disapprove of Sam Beckett. He was too... _good_ , to the core of his soul. A special and decent human being.

And since when have I ever worried about going to hell, myself?!

Would God condemn me for what I was feeling? Was it hurtful, selfish? I'd done worse things, even killed, in 'Nam... All I wanted to do was love Sam. Wrap him up in my love and keep him safe.

I made up my mind right then and there. I'd dedicate my life to Sam, to being there for him when he needed me, taking care of him, protecting him. In return, accept a little love.

"It's okay," Sam was soothing, almost petting me like a kitten. Well, not quite...his hands were also undoing the buttons of my pajamas.

"Sure you won't regret this in the morning?" I asked through the fog of desire that was once again clouding my senses.

"No matter what," he promised, "I'll never stop being your friend." Those wonderful lips covered mine yet again.

Lack of oxygen--and lack of common sense--were both going to my head. I was amazed to find out how good of a kisser Sam was. Almost as good as myself. I wouldn't have thought he'd have it in him.

How wrong I was.

...aaand loving it.

Sam thought he still had to reassure me, so I let him. It was nice, having him whisper words of comfort in my ear--and especially nice when his wet tongue probed that ear afterwards.

The kisses became more frequent now, and more impassioned. It was too dark to make out features, which heightened other senses, and the darkness swallowed us up in a strange world. Touch was everything, as we learned each other like Braille.

Our clothes were long lost (no wonder he'd been cold, in only his briefs!). Sam's hand grapsed my cock, and I bit my lip to stifle a cry. Inquisitive fingers tickled my balls, reaching under and squeezing gently. Then there was the feel of something other than his hand. I reached around and cupped his smooth ass, pulling him against me. Bright lights exploded in front of my eyes. I felt something wet against my skin--took a few seconds to figure out which one of us it was from. Then I felt the shuddering as orgasm washed over his body. I clung to him like a raft in the middle of a storm at sea, and let my own release take over.

We held tight to each other long after, as if we couldn't bear to let go. I know I didn't want to.

"Al?" Sam finally whispered, a trace of uncertainty in his voice. "Is it...okay?"

He got me at a weak moment, afterglow was worse than a dose of sodium pentathol to me. That's how two of my wives got me to propose. I smiled and defied the laws of physics by pulling him even closer. "More than okay. I love you, Sam. And I think we have a damn good shot at making this work."

"Better than Sharon?" he teased, leaning up on one elbow.

I grabbed him and pulled him down on top of me. "Better than ever before, baby."

Delight sang in the body that enthusiastically melded again with mine.

I'm not saying it was going to be clear sailing after that, devoid of rough patches. Ingrained beliefs can take a long time to overcome.

I'm not talking about religious beliefs. I mean the kind that make you set yourself up for failure, time and time again. You can pray to God all you want, follow what you believe to be His word, to the letter. But in the end, the only voice that you're going to listen to comes from within you. Belief can't be controlled, or denied. But it doesn't come from the pages of a Bible. It comes from the soul.

I didn't have to worry about the devil getting my soul. It was taken already.

Amen.

 

**the end.**

11/30/93


End file.
